Taxi No. 9211

Director: Milan Luthria

Cast: Nana Patekar, John Abraham, Sonali Kulkarni, Sameera Reddy, Shivaji Sattam

6.5/10

YOU COULD NEVER discover a better contrast in terms of histrionic talent than Nana Patekar and John Abraham. If one is black, in Taxi No. 9211, then the other is just plain yellow. And no prizes or chhuta paisa for guessing which is who. Ripping off the title from that old classic, Nau Do Gyarah, and screwing it down on the number plate of a cab is real cute. Then, using the taxi as a pivot to turn a rather exciting and amusing thriller around it, Milan Luthria steers his film well. The producers are Ramesh Sippy and Rohan Sippy, and it shows on the meter clearly.

At the wheel is Nana, a crusty old sourpuss, who loses his jobs (23 in 15 years) as quickly as his temper and in the backseat is millionaire John who in his backseat driving (reminiscent gently of the famous rickshaw puller and pushy passenger scene which was at the core of Do Bigha Zamin). The cabbie has to pay off the cab owner Rs 30,000 by the end of the day or he’s had it even in this job. And of course, his wife (the beautiful Smita Patil clone, Sonali) and child at home have been fibbed into believing that he’s a respectable insurance salesman. The rakish philanderer has a final call in court the same day to prove his claim for Rs 300 crore. And the key to the bank locker containing the will gets left behind in the cab when it is pushed into speeding and ramming into a sexy looking car. The name of this tycoon is Jai Mittal, if you please, and he is battling a Mr Bajaj, very close to his father, and to whom Mittal Sr had willed all his money power. And Jai, claiming to have the real will, can’t have you missing allusion to the recent battle of the Birla family about the will of Priyambada Birla with her close associate R.S. Lodha.

The cab trip is laced with wry humour and moments of emotional clutching, shifting into racy gear and pressing the ‘item’ horn now and then. Though one wonders what the dickey this stepney called Sameera is doing in films.

Taxi No. 9211 does have some starter problems, with the first reel or two far too jarring in its weird cutting, but when it settles into a straight drive, it’s a nice and smooth acceleration, keeping the meter ticking. Where the film really gets into top gear is when the two adversaries decide to forgive and forget, aw shucks, we are both dhakkans born on the same day, share a drink and blow birthday candles together and make up.

Nana, three decades into the line, makes the taxi move with a single hand on the wheel, and you should see him at the item number in the end credits too. In contrast, John, “three sensational years in the business”, leaves you praying he had been blessed with expressions at least half that number. What he adds to the film, nearly, are four flat tyres.

Anil Grover